


Boromir's Musings

by Aria_Breuer



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Gap Filler, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Breuer/pseuds/Aria_Breuer
Summary: While taking shelter in the forests of Caras Galadhon, in Lothlorien, Boromir reflects and muses over what the Ring could grant him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers:** All canon material from The Lord of the Rings trilogy belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line Cinema, Warner Brothers and Turbine. All other canon material belongs to their respected owners. All original material belongs to me, the authoress of this fanfiction story.

Night fell on the campsite, where the tents were draped with white curtain, with emblems of gold trees resting upon the fabric. Boromir sat alone, perched on a bench made from roots and a large tree stump. Over and over again, his thoughts dwelt on what Lady Galadriel said to him, not long ago: _Gondor will fall, if the Ring is not taken to Mordor. Your family needs you._

But no words alone could describe the pain he endured. Boromir knew well what she meant by Gondor’s fall… but there was a way to save his country. The Ring must be taken to Mordor. That’s what everyone said, everyone who told him. The Fellowship knew its importance… and yet he couldn’t bear the thought of making his father angry.

The Ring was so delicate, so fragile. If only there was a chance for him to gaze upon it once more. But the little ones wouldn’t let him see it. Aragorn wouldn’t tell him grasp it. And yet, he cared for the Halflings safety. As much as possible. Then there was the Ring itself. Sure, he could bring the Hobbits to Mordor and defeat the evil that spread across the land.

But no, his father needed that ring. Should he inform him, on his way home, that the Ring was in his hands. But Aragorn wouldn’t allow it. He was the Fellowship’s new leader and trusted the elves by a long margin. Well, if there was hope, he would find it… somehow.

“Boromir,” Aragorn’s voice brought the Gondorian soldier out of his phase. “You should rest. We have need of you on this quest.”

“Need?” Boromir chided. “The Ring is still on everyone’s minds.”

“Boromir, what is it that troubles you?” Aragorn asked him.

“Gondor is falling to Sauron’s grasp,” Boromir said, unaware that Aragorn sat down beside him. “My father… he hopes to even the odds, but Gondor has fallen to ruin. My father cannot see it, but I know it in my heart to be true.”

“Boromir,” Aragorn started, “why did you come? Volunteered on this journey?”

“Why did I come? To represent Gondor. If there is a way to see Gondor renewed, I shall have it,” Boromir said, a tear trickling down his cheek. “She spoke in my head. Lady Galadriel. She knows my father is in great pain. But I cannot let the White City fall, not to the Enemy’s hands. I will fight for my country, no matter what the challenge holds.” He added last, “I will fight until my last breath.” He sighed, not knowing how true those words were and how important they would become.

“You should take some rest, Boromir,” Aragorn said, standing up.

“Yes,” Boromir said, his voice faint.

Indeed, Boromir did find sleep amongst the campsite. But how much of a hold did the Ring have no his heart? What would he do? But then, even he had a feeling what he would do, if he did not see the Ring anymore: protect the hobbits, protect Merry and Pippin. His path was clear now: he would head to Gondor. But without the Ring, his father would surely be angry with him.

“That’s a risk, I’m willing to take,” said Boromir, as sleep overtook him at last. For in the end, he would be the hero the Fellowship needed. For Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took wouldn’t forget his sacrifice, even unto the end of days.

The End.


End file.
